The Story of the Soul
by QueenAllan
Summary: There had never been two Kings. There would never be two Kings.
1. Chapter 1

There is a moment in time and space when a person's soul recognizes it's counterpart. It may not be obvious to the bodies of the two souls, or it may strike like lightning at the hearts of one or the other or both.

The souls of Arthur Pendragon and Merlin Emrys recognized each other, yet the brains of the boys did not acknowledge what souls had.

So as time went on the souls of the boys reached out towards each other, pulling the boys together emotionally. Tugging at each other. Trying to touch, just for a moment. So when Arthur asked Merlin to help him with his armor and Merlin obliged his finger brushed the skin on Arthur's neck for just a moment.

Just one moment.

And in that moment there was everything.

Their souls had touched and both boys saw nothing, but white around them. Except each other.

And they _really _saw each other, too. Not just master and servant. Not just best friends. Not just intertwined destinies. They saw the person they loved most.

That moment ended and Arthur stumbled backwards, "_Mer_lin, what are you doing?" Merlin was in shock, however and didn't respond right away. His hands hung in the air where Arthur's body had been a moment before and he felt a tugging at his heart. _Towards _Arthur.

"I-I don't know. It must've been static or something," Merlin said, his face flushing at the thoughts running through his head. He reached out and grasped Arthur's helmet, holding it out to him and when Arthur reached out as well, he pulled his hand away quickly, trying not to touch him again.

Trying to avoid any ridiculous feelings that had sprung from nowhere.

Arthur's breathing had deepened and his heart hammered. There was a tension in the room and he swallowed as Merlin held out his helmet. His eyes focused on the fingers. The slender fingers. The soft fingers he'd felt on his skin before and longed to feel again.

These thoughts were pushed to the back of his mind, however, and labeled as ridiculous and absurd.

Arthur was ashamed of himself for thinking such things.

Such pleasant things.

Such things that could get him killed.

And yet, Arthur wasn't sure of that. He would be king one day.

One day.

He pressed his helmet underneath his arm and walked out of the room. Head down, avoiding eye contact with Merlin, who was doing the same thing. As he left, he gave Merlin an unusually wide berth. Taking extra precaution not to touch him, because Arthur was afraid he didn't have the self-control or the clarity of mind to handle what he might do if he made contact with Merlin again.

"Arthur," Merlin whispered, practically only a breath, and as it left his lips his heart pulled again and Merlin almost ran out then. Almost chased him down.

But he couldn't feel this way. Certainly it was wrong, wasn't it? To feel like this about another man, especially one who came from Arthur's blood. Merlin was a peasant. A servant. An assistant to the court physician. No one important enough to be the one Arthur love-

That thought was stopped in its tracks before Merlin could think something he'd regret. He turned on his heels, following his master out the door, and trying not to run to catch up, to stand beside him.

It was wrong.

Arthur couldn't keep those three words out of his head. Wrong. It was wrong.

"And then we'll shower the king in pig's blood and trample him with elephants and afterwards, we'll feast on his body. Sound good, Arthur?" Gwen said enthusiastically as she followed Arthur down the halls, having run into him just after he'd left his chambers.

"Perfect," Arthur agreed, his thoughts elsewhere.

"What's on your mind, Arthur?" Gwen asked, out of the corner of her eye. Trying not to seem too interested in what he wanted because she knew they couldn't be together. Not then. Possibly, not ever.

"What? Nothing."

"Arthur, you just agreed to eating your own father. I highly doubt you were actually listening," Gwen said, a laugh pulling free as she talked.

"I-what? I'm just distracted, nothing important," Arthur said, trying to dismiss it. He could never reveal the feelings he had for Merlin at that moment. Never. Not to Gwen. Not to Merlin. Not to anyone. Especially, not to his father. Who had been pressing the idea of a wife recently.

"I can see that you're distracted. If it's not important, I'd be glad to hear of it. _Honored, your majesty,_" Gwen laid it on thick. Hoping to stroke his ego and get him to boast of his distractions to the world.

"It's nothing, Gwen, just trivial. You wouldn't be interested," Arthur said, he looked around suddenly, realizing his servant wasn't around, "Where is M-merlin?" He asked, stuttering over Merlin's name when he tried to make it seem disinterested.

"I dunno, isn't he supposed to be with—"

"Hello, Gwen, how are you?" Merlin asked, pushing his way between Gwen and Arthur without actually thinking about it. He felt angry at the distance between the two of them and thought it better if there was a bit more of it.

Distance, that is.

Arthur was right, Merlin realized, it could never work between him and Gwen. He was a prat and she was compassionate. He was a prince and she was a servant. Princes can't marry servants, it just isn't right.

His heart sank with each bit he realized applied to him as well. If he thought Gwen couldn't be with Arthur, he would have to agree that he could never be with him either. Because if Arthur and Gwenivere was wrong. A man and a man was worse.

There had never been two kings.

There would never _be _two kings.

Not in all of history or all of time could there or would there be a world where two kings could rule.

That was the sad truth, really, and even later that night as Merlin was in bed trying to sleep, the reality of that was still resounding deep in his thoughts. Princes marry Princesses. Servants serve the Princes and Princesses. A King must have a Queen.

That much was true.

Arthur wished he wasn't a prince.

Merlin wished he was royalty.

They both wished they could have each other.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Hii. So, this fic is going to be a lot of short installments and will probably not have an ending. If you don't like short installments. Go away. I already hate you.**_

_**Anyways, thank you for reading my short installments. **_

_**I love you. **_

_**Loljk I love Bradley and Colin more.**_

Time was like a knife in the hearts of Merlin and Arthur, stabbing itself deeper as time went on. Their souls were now intertwined, wound around each other again and again, because when they touched, for that brief moment, their souls joined.

Now they could both feel the heart of each other as they moved around and nearer together. Merlin could feel Arthur's presence like an arrowhead in his chest. It ached, it scabbed and was torn fresh every time he saw him.

They acted as if nothing was different, the other totally oblivious to the slight changes their counterpart was making to avoid skin on skin contact.

Or, in other words, pleasure, as Arthur liked to think about it when he wasn't busy hating himself for his feelings.

Gwen noticed, however, and saw the distance they put between themselves. She wondered if they'd had an argument or something, but then she saw it. The look in Arthur's eyes when Merlin left the room. The expression on Merlin's face when Arthur said his name.

They were in love.

On some level, this hurt Gwen as she was faced with the fact that Arthur was no longer in love with her, but she knew that Merlin was good for him and that Arthur was good for Merlin.

They'd never admit to it, but Gwenivere had never seen two people who were so alike. Two people who were made for each other as much as Arthur and Merlin were. Carved from the same piece of marble.

Arthur hated himself. He hated himself with every fiber of his being. He felt sick to his stomach just thinking about his feelings for Merlin. Not thinking about Merlin made him even sicker. Camelot must have an heir. There was no denying that, and Uther certainly wasn't going to have any more sons. He couldn't be with Merlin as King.

It could never be.

Merlin couldn't even confess his feelings to Arthur. That would just be utterly ridiculous, but being so close to him and yet having to stay so far away was killing Merlin. Tormenting him. He just wished to grab a handful of Arthur's hair and to kiss the line of his jaw. He wanted to feel Arthur pressed up into him. Inside of him.

Merlin pushed the thoughts away. The inappropriate ones at least. He'd save that for another time, a much later time in the middle of the night.

What neither understood, for they didn't even realize, was that now their souls were intertwined the longer they tried to run from it, the stronger their feelings would get. The build up would become unbearable.


End file.
